


Drink and Be Merry

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Kinktober 2018 [13]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Old Married Couple, Sort Of, also cock sucking, blood sucking, human!Merlin, little bit of angst and fluff, vampire!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Merlin might not have been a quasi-immortal, highly experienced vampire with the ability to hypnotise and manipulate people at will, but he was not an idiot.





	Drink and Be Merry

**Author's Note:**

> Day thirteen was licking/biting, and instead of doing something normal, I naturally gravitated towards vampires. As one does. The lore is just a mix of things I like from vampire mythology, so don't yell at me please.

Merlin might not have been a quasi-immortal, highly experienced vampire with the ability to hypnotise and manipulate people at will, but he was not an idiot. The reverse, however, could probably be said for Harry Hart. That is, for someone who _was_ a quasi-immortal, highly experienced vampire with the ability to hypnotise and manipulate people at will, Harry was spectacularly dense at times. It was a more endearing trait than it ought to have been.

Most of the time, their relationship functioned much like any other might. They bickered like an old married couple – thirty years together would do that to you – and they took turns cooking dinner and Merlin pretended he didn’t know about the secret stash of blood Harry kept at the very back of the fridge so long as Harry pretended he didn’t know about the secret stash of chocolate biscuits that Merlin kept at the very back of one of the cabinets.

Honestly, the last thing was more for Harry’s sake than Merlin’s, who had long since grown accustomed to the fact that he had, since his twenties, been in love with a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties, was actually closer to his mid five hundreds, had to be invited over the threshold of houses, drank blood, and couldn’t stand the smell of pumpkin. Harry, on the other hand, seemed desperate to pretend to be the epitome of normalcy. Which was why October never failed, so to speak, to drive Merlin batty.

He’d read the lore ages ago when he’d first started crushing on Harry, who at the time had been just one of the knights while Merlin was still training to earn the title he now bore. He hadn’t known, of course, but Harry had cornered him in his office one day with an unsubtle “I can hear exactly where your blood goes when you look at me, so perhaps you ought to read these and forget about it” and dumped a handful of heavy tomes onto Merlin’s desk before stalking out of the room. Merlin hadn’t even had time to blush. The books had been full of ancient folklore, with lots of scribbled corrections and anecdotes in the margins, and it had taken Merlin three hours of confused reading before he’d realized that perhaps Harry wasn’t trying to convey a metaphor of some kind but was being entirely serious. It had taken him another two to decide he didn’t care.

The end of October, once All Hallows Eve and now more commonly Halloween, was when the demonic world was at its strongest, when it blended most easily with the natural world. It was also when hiding what he was became most difficult for Harry, the vampire part of his nature struggling to overwhelm the man as the day drew nearer and nearer. It was when cold, frozen blood in the fridge failed to satisfy him, and when Merlin, without fail, would have to knock some sense into that fanged head of his.

He approached it casually, decades of practice making it almost easy. “You’re not fooling me, you know.”

They were in bed, Harry fidgety, chewing on his lower lip the way he always did when he got hungry. By now, it was thoroughly cracked, nearly worn through in his stubbornness. Merlin didn’t look up from his tablet, knowing eye contact would just make Harry more paranoid. Harry admitted, on occasion, that he still worried sometimes that Merlin wasn’t with him of his own accord, but that Harry’s love for him had unconsciously activated his powers of hypnosis, that Merlin merely believed he wanted to be with Harry because that was what Harry wanted. Merlin’s response was usually to point out that Harry couldn’t hypnotise over long distances, and Merlin missed him terribly when he was gone on missions and was always immensely relieved for a safe return.

Harry’s response to Merlin’s subtle confrontation was predictable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not an idiot Harry. I have eyes, and I have a calendar. It’s October.”

“So?” Harry sniffed.

Merlin set the tablet aside, still keeping his eyes fixed on the bedspread. “So,” he said, “I know you’re hungry.”

“Merlin-“

“We have this fight every year, Harry. Doesn’t it get a bit redundant after three decades?”

Harry was silent, and Merlin heard him set his book on the nightstand. His voice was very quiet when he finally responded. “We don’t have to have it this year if you’d just leave it alone.”

“Harry-“ Merlin started, and then stopped himself. “Can I look at you without you panicking?”

There was a pause, and then a soft, “Yes.”

Merlin lifted his head, turning to face his husband. Harry’s eyes were directed at his own lap, his hands balled in the comforter and his jaw clenched. “Harry,” Merlin said gently. “Look at me, love. Please.”

Harry shook his head minutely and Merlin watched his lip quiver, like he was about to cry. He reached out and placed his hands over Harry’s, and Harry startled and looked up, meeting Merlin’s gaze with watery eyes. “I’ve stayed with you thirty years,” Merlin said. “That’s a long time, Harry.” It was for him, at least. He knew it was hardly a blink for Harry. “What makes you think that this time will be any different?”

Harry licked his lips, a subconscious movement. Eventually he said, his voice shaking slightly, “Because one of these day’s you’re going to realize you’re better off without me. One year it’s going to be too much, and then you’ll leave. Or worse, you’ll be stubborn and stay and I’ll hurt you.”

“Harry-“

“You’re not twenty-five anymore, Merlin! Your body doesn’t recover like it used to!”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a field agent, isn’t it?” Merlin snapped back. “I can afford to take a few days off to recover. And if you’ll recall, I don’t normally need even that long, because you have more than enough self-control.”

Harry’s lip curled, like he was thinking about snarling at Merlin. His fangs were extended, the tips just barely visible at the corner of his mouth, his body reacting to the rage, the way Merlin’s blood was boiling and the animal urge, buried deep inside Harry, to _take_. But his voice was civil as he retorted, “Your faith in me is misguided.”

“If my faith is misguided, then why didn’t you drain me years ago?”

“You think I didn’t want to?” The first time he’d said it had been a slap in the face for Merlin. Now it was a very old in point in a very old argument. “You think there wasn’t a part of me that wanted every drop I could get? That wanted to bleed you dry, to drink until I was sated and there was nothing left?”

“I know that,” Merlin insisted as calmly as he could manage. “And yet you don’t. You never take more than I can give, always less than I’d willingly provide. Because to you, I’m worth going hungry. So forgive me if one month out of the year I try and make things a little easier for you.”

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” The admission was quiet, so much sooner than Merlin had expected it, but not unexpected on the whole.

Merlin squeezed Harry’s hands. “I know, love. I know.”

“It frightens me, how badly I want you.”

“You can have me, Harry. You can have anything you’d like.”

“I’m so hungry,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin coaxed him a little closer, allowing Harry to cry against his shoulder. “It’s alright, love,” he murmured. “You’ll feel better when you drink.”

“I don’t want to.” But the way Harry was nosing up, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck, his lips already at Merlin’s pulse point, told Merlin otherwise.

“I will never force you,” Merlin said. “Just like you’ll never force me. But if you’d like to drink, you can.”

He felt Harry’s teeth graze his neck, the prickle of his fangs against flesh. “You’ll stop me if I try to take too much?” Harry pleaded.

Merlin highly doubted that would happen. There’d been years when it was hard to coax Harry into taking _enough_. “Of course,” he agreed easily, and curled his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck. “Go on, love. Take what you need.”

And Harry sank his teeth in. Merlin grunted, the first sharp sting of pain always surprising him before the sensation smoothed out into something else altogether. He shuddered, and Harry growled, sucking hard, his mouth fixed tight over the wound in Merlin’s neck to avoid wasting even a single drop. Merlin felt the fire spreading through his veins, a strange mix of pain and pleasure, his body entirely unsure what to do with the sensation.

This was the part he’d never understand from a biology perspective. He was losing blood; surely his body couldn’t afford to spare any. And yet, without fail, this was the part where Merlin felt the blood surge down, filling his cock, making it ache with need. He didn’t touch himself, not yet. He needed as clear a head as possible, needed to keep his hold on Harry, keep him drinking as long as he needed, needed to stop him in the unlikely event that Harry pushed too far. So he gritted his teeth and kept both hands on Harry, one on the back of his neck and the other wrapped around his waist, hauling him into Merlin’s lap. Harry accepted the shift in position without complaint, his mouth still latched onto Merlin’s neck, gulping down the offering.

Already, Merlin was starting to feel a little faint, but he had gotten good at timing it, knew exactly what point he could go to before the negatives of blood loss could kick in. He stroked Harry’s back, and Harry moaned, not a sexual sound but a sensual one as he satisfied his need.

“That’s it,” Merlin managed. “That’s it, sweetheart, there you go.”

Harry made another quite sound, half a whine. He was still sucking, but it wasn’t quite so desperate, and he clutched at Merlin’s arm, his grip unsteady, uncertain.

“A little bit more,” Merlin said. “Keep going, Harry. You can have a little more.” It wouldn’t wholly satisfy Harry, but in a few days Merlin would be fully recovered and ready to go again, and Harry always took much less convincing the second time around.

He finally eased his grip on Harry’s neck when his vision started to swim around the edges, and he felt Harry let up, the sucking pressure turning to a licking one as he sealed the bite over with his saliva, attempting to staunch the flow of blood.

Merlin had enough sense to fumble for the nightstand, tugging the drawer open and pushing a bandage into Harry’s hand. Harry pulled his mouth away from Merlin’s neck, administering the first aid with practiced ease. Merlin leaned against the headboard, eyes fluttering shut as he took a deep breath.

It was the wrong move, because he felt Harry’s panicked hands on his face. “Merlin? Darling?”

Merlin forced his eyes open. “I’m fine, love.” He managed a smile. “See? I just need a minute to catch my breath.”

“Did I take too much? Should I bring you to Kingsman?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Merlin repeated. He wrapped Harry up, pulled him closer. “Look at me, love. You stopped. I didn’t even have to tell you, and you stopped.”

Harry nuzzled into his neck again, pressing apologetic kisses over the bandage. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure, love. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Harry admitted. “Full.” Merlin lifted his eyebrow and Harry amended, “Full enough.”

“Good.” Merlin closed his eyes again, petting at Harry’s hair.

Harry snaked a hand between them, reaching curiously for Merlin’s cock, curling around it over the pyjama bottoms he was wearing. “Do you want me to do something about this?”

“In a minute.”

Harry nodded, letting go but still petting gently at the hard flesh. Into Merlin’s neck, he murmured, “That doesn’t usually happen, you know.”

“Hmm?” It was all he could really manage, between the fuzziness of his head and the lovely feeling of Harry’s hand on him.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who got off on a vampire feeding from them.”

Merlin blinked, frowning. “I assumed it was normal.” It certainly was portrayed that way, fictional sources all indicating that it was intoxicating to have a vampire drink from you.

Apparently fictional sources were not to be trusted, because Harry laughed and shook his head in wonder. “No, darling, as usual you are the exception.” He tightened his grip a little, swiping his thumb over the covered head, and Merlin bit back a groan as his cock throbbed in Harry’s grip. “Now?”

“Impatient,” Merlin said affectionately, but he pushed at the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and Harry released him and then resumed his stroking once Merlin’s cock was bare. Merlin shifted his hips up into the touch. Without the sense of urgency, he basked in the waves of pleasure, cresting sweetly over him as Harry worked his hand up and down the length.

“I want your mouth,” Merlin murmured. “You have such a talented tongue, love.” His filter was nearly gone, the blood loss and the arousal speaking for him.

Harry looked doubtful. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Please?”

Harry hesitated a moment longer, and then folded with a small smile. “If you want my tongue, then my tongue you shall have.” True to his word, when he ducked his head, Merlin didn’t feel the satisfaction of wet heat closing in around him. Instead, Harry licked a stripe along the bottom of his cock, tracing the pulsing vein and then kitten-licking around the head, paying special attention to the sensitive bundle of nerves on the underside.

“That’s it,” Merlin breathed. He moaned as Harry’s tongue stroked up and down his length, his hand massaging the base of Merlin’s cock, easing him gently towards the edge. “A little bit of teeth, please?”

Harry glanced up at him. “I’m not going to bite your cock.”

Merlin thumped his shoulder affectionately. “Not bite, you arse. You know what I mean.”

Harry’s smile was sly. “Like this?” And he scraped his teeth gently along Merlin’s cock.

The sparks it prickled along his skin went straight to Merlin’s balls, and he groaned. “Just like that. Perfect.” Harry alternated the licking with his teeth, just the barest hint of pressure and sharpness, and Merlin spilled without realizing he was so close to the edge, the orgasm thoroughly doing in his head where Harry’s feeding hadn’t.

He hardly registered Harry fixing his pyjamas and tucking him back down into bed. Harry’s voice was soothing in his ear, faint amusement in it as he spoke, “You never cease to amaze me, my darling. What I wouldn’t give to have you by my side forever.”

Merlin had thought about it too, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up when he wasn’t certain what Harry’s response might be. Now, he tucked it away for later, squeezing Harry’s wrist gently. “Wake me up in a little while. I’ll need to drink something. Replenish lost fluids.”

“Of course. I know the drill.” Harry snuggled into his side, resting his head against Merlin’s shoulder. “Rest now. I’ll take care of you.”

“Not if I take care of you first,” Merlin slurred, already halfway asleep.

Harry kissed his forehead. “Each other, then. We’ll look after each other.”

And that sounded just about right.


End file.
